A little Arthurian magic before Halowe'en...
One of the always-present
tensions in Arthurian legends is the conflicting duties of the chivalric code,
serving both secular and religious ends. Chrétien de Troyes’s romance of the
grail quest is a prime example, but even Geoffrey of Monmouth’s history of
Britain displays some of his conflicting intentions. However, in the middle of
this tension occurs the weird and mystical. The ideas of magic and supernatural
have a very ambiguous role in the medieval Arthurian tradition where the lines
between reality and the otherworld are constantly blurred and confused. Are
these bizarre elements merely included for the excitement or intrigue they
might provide, or do they serve a larger purpose? Examining the effects the
supernatural has on the characters or events in the romantic history of Britain
and the tale of Perceval while taking into account possible medieval reception
and author motivations shows how the supernatural fits within the conflict
between the sacred and secular. The role of the supernatural aspects in
Geoffrey’s The History of the Kings of
Britain and Chrétien’s The Story of
the Grail (Perceval) serves to affirm
a divine destiny and purpose.
The range of medieval ideas of magic extends from the
extremes of the evil power of demons to divine miracle with a kind of milder,
ambiguous variety in between—perhaps not truly good or evil. Geoffrey of
Monmouth appears to be exhibiting the middle realm in his History—or at least trying to make the possible extremes seem safer
or more realistic. The finding of Merlin, a boy born without a father, whose
blood King Vortigern requires to solidify the foundations of his tower fortress
is the start of the more major elements of the supernatural in the history.
Geoffrey, however, does not state it as fact that Merlin was conceived from an
incubus but steps around making the assertion through using the words of the
sage Maugantius (129). Since Geoffrey provides no alternative, the idea is
taken for fact and serves as explanation for Merlin’s ability to make the
subsequent prophecies. The prophecies themselves are then an instance of the
supernatural entering the worldly sphere of reality, seemingly outside of any
religion.
However, including this unearthly wise figure and his
prophecies does not necessarily condemn Geoffrey’s credibility with his
audience or church. Julia Crick argues that the inclusion of the prophecies
actually helped give his History its
credibility. Whether or not they truly believed in the prophecies, rulers and
politicians would both use and reject various prophecies if it helped their
cases (Crick 365). In the church, other, non-Christian prophets were already
accepted, which let it see Merlin “as the mouthpiece for divine revelation” (362).
Furthermore, when studied in conjunction with his History, readers were able to identify some of the prophecies
already fulfilled in the historical events (363). In this sense, Merlin’s
supernatural role is moved into the divine realm. Nikolai Tolstoy supports the
ready acceptance of prophecy in the Middle Ages by noting that “prophecy played
a central function in understanding the world and determining courses of action
. . . . after all, several books of the Bible testified to its authority” (8). Again,
the prophecies do not then conflict with a religious world view, but support
divine destiny. This shows Geoffrey’s habit of keeping the history theologically
Christian, but giving into his desire to include the marvelous.
Other instances of the supernatural in Geoffrey’s History continue to show his pattern of
reconciling magic with realism and Christianity. Early in the History, when an Irish Sea creature abruptly
appears and gobbles up the cruel King Morvidus just after he has his prisoners
brutally killed, it is difficult not to interpret as a divine providence that decided
to intervene (Monmouth 80). Taken from folklore or contrived by Geoffrey, the
point he is making about evil kings is clear. Geoffrey also inserts Arthur’s
shield, Pridwen, which bears a depiction of the Virgin Mary, “keeping him
always mindful of her” along with “the greatest of swords,” Caliburn, “which
had been made in the isle of Avalon” (166-167). With these superior weapons
(Pridwen literally depicts spiritual matters and Caliburn comes from the
mystical Avalon), Arthur defeats a staggering 470 Saxons each “with a single
blow” (167). Arthur’s incredible victory eventually allows him to have mercy on
the “holy men” and grant the bishops some land (169). These details keep
Christianity at the center of Arthur’s success thus far in the history, which
is reminiscent of biblical battles in which God is on the side of the
believers, causing their success.
The more
complicated instance of the supernatural is the concoction Merlin creates for Uther
to take on the appearance of Gorlois so Uther can sleep with his wife Igerna
without anyone knowing. Although it sounds like a fantastical, and rather
demonic, potion, Geoffrey smoothes over the issue of black magic by attributing
the “concoction” to advanced science, or “new arts that are unheard of in this
day and age,” putting it into that more middle area of good and bad magic
(158). This allows the king to commit adultery to satisfy a worldly desire.
This is far from religiously acceptable; however, Geoffrey makes it seem not so
sinful by meanwhile killing Gorlois in battle. Unlike what seems to be a mirroring
of the biblical account of the sinful David and Bathsheba, Igerna is ignorant
of what would be her sin (if Gorlois were still alive), and she becomes
pregnant with Uther’s son, Arthur. So, rather than a detrimental act, Merlin’s
concoction actually allows the existence of the famed king, fulfilling Merlin’s
prophecy, and potentially occurs as an act of divine destiny.
Chrétien, writing for the crusader, Count Philip of
Flanders, clearly has a spiritual kind of chivalry in mind, as is seen from the
dedication, for the romance, The Story of
the Grail (Perceval). Throughout the story, there is a strong sense of destiny
and a divine purpose—especially seen in the mystical and supernatural aspects—even
though destiny may not be fulfilled through to the end.[1]
There are at least six prophecies made about Perceval’s destiny. Perceval’s
mother admits that he is “destined for knighthood,” and Perceval fulfills this
destiny, although it seems he perhaps takes on knighthood rather than actually
being knighted (386). Dennis D. Martin, in his analysis of Perceval based on
the theological implications of the words give
and take, suggests that
Perceval’s failure arises from his inability to have “the discretion and
discernment needed to know when to give and when to take” (179). Martin defines
chivalry as having this discretion because “chivalry was all about giving and taking” (179). Perceval decides not to make the sign of the cross
to invoke God’s help when he senses danger, deciding to use his own strength,
he takes the maiden’s kisses and ring, and he forcefully takes the red armor.
Even though the prophecies say Perceval will succeed in certain things—that he
is already destined for them—Perceval tries to make his own destiny not trusting,
or perhaps knowing, God. To put first
the spiritual chivalry over the secular, Perceval needs to trust in and
remember God with a humble mind for true success and fulfillment of destiny.[2]
Aside from the prophecies, there are several other
supernatural events in Perceval
pointing to a divine plan. Oaths, in particular, seem to have a magical bind. Perceval
also has no need to lock up his prisoners, as they have sworn “not to attempt
to escape or ever seek to do them harm” (412). Each knight Perceval defeats and
sends back to King Arthur as prisoner obediently goes and follows all of
Perceval’s instructions exactly and perfectly. In this way, Perceval’s destiny
to be the “supreme lord among all knights” by gaining his reputation so no one
would “ever acknowledge” a knight better than he begins to form (Chrétien 394).
It also carries his self-made promises (or perhaps prophecies) to Arthur’s
court. Yet, this prophecy fulfilled seems to elevate the chivalric code of
knights above the spiritual.
At the mysterious and mystical Grail Castle (which itself
seems to appear out of nowhere), Perceval makes it clear which “higher” purpose
he is aiming to follow. Ann McCullough makes a strong argument for the
influence of the Jewish Passover celebration in the grail procession, meant to
induce the youngest (Perceval, in this case) to ask about the reasons for the
differences in that particular meal. This questioning would then have
“liberated,” as in the Jewish tradition, the Fisher King and his lands (52).
McCullough’s reason for the sin of the failure to ask is that Perceval,
actually trying not to sin, “unknowingly breaks the religious law of the castle
precisely because he is upholding another law: the law of chivalry” (54). The
difference is that “[r]eligious law requires that one question—that is, that
one should want to know; chivalric law requires that one remain mute and not
exhibit the desire to know” (54). Perceval has followed the more secular advice
of Gornemant. At this point, Perceval has become too earthly or secular minded
to understand his role in the spiritual realm and greater divine plan, even
though everything about the Grail Castle, the Fisher King, and the procession
of the glowing grail and bleeding lance are all pointing him in the other
direction.
The natures of these puzzling relics also have
significant effects on Perceval’s destiny. McCullough interprets Perceval’s
inability to ask about the relics as caused by his aversion to pain and
suffering as well as his “blindness” to them—and the grail and lance “point to
a pain and suffering that must be acknowledged” (54). She believes this is why
Perceval naïvely goes off to discover their secrets through knightly glory and
chivalry, denying the possibilities of emasculation (54). The grail is some
kind of serving vessel, symbolizing the mutual, humble service between
Christians and Christ. That the pure “white lance” bleeding “a red drop”
symbolically refers to Christ’s suffering and crucifixion for the redemption
from sin requires a humble, servile mindset and potential suffering on the
Christian’s part is foreign to Perceval (Chrétien 420). In this way, Perceval
seems fated to fail. However, some critics trace this deficiency back to
Perceval’s mother—whose fatal grief is, ironically, the apparent reason
Perceval did not ask about the grail procession in the first place and sinned.
Ewa Slojka blames Perceval’s mother’s loss of faith through her many sufferings
as the cause of Perceval’s disconnect from the spiritual due to his “upbringing”
from her (66). This dissolves Perceval’s bond with God—the supernatural—and God
intervenes by having Perceval cross paths with Good Friday observers who direct
him back to the “right” path, both literally to the holy hermit, and
figuratively to repentance—inadvertently, to suffering on account of his sins
(Chrétien 458).[3]
Even
when the supernatural occurs because of secular reasons in both The History of the Kings of Britain and The Story of the Grail (Perceval), it
ultimately leads to the greater Christian purpose. Where Geoffrey slyly inserts
instances of the marvelous for reasons of both romantic intrigue and evidence
of a divine destiny in the making, Chrétien boldly places mystical occurrences
at the heart of his romance to point to the path of the superior spiritual
providence over earthly glory. In The
Story of the Grail, even secular preoccupations are turned by a higher
intervention to the sacred in the end—whether or not readers will ever know the
ending Chrétien had in mind! Geoffrey works to prove God’s divine will and
active role within Britain, justifying its existence on a political level. The
predestination emphasized by the supernatural in these works culminates in Perceval’s
return to God, and likewise in the extra line of hope Geoffrey felt the need to
add after Britain’s fallen fortune: “[Arthur] was carried away to healed of his
wounds on the isle of Avalon” (199). Therefore, Arthur’s Christian purpose in
Britain has hope to live on.
Notes
[1] Even if Chrétien meant to redeem
Perceval after he fails to question the Fisher King (as seems to be the
direction when Chrétien leaves off), Perceval still does not succeed initially
in his spiritual fulfillment.
[2] Martin states, “What was once the
marvelous acknowledgement of true human dignity—our reception of our very
selves from God in grateful dependence—has become dehumanizing to many”
(185-186). He continues to say that, therefore, love has become replaced
instead with power. This is seen in Perceval’s more forceful, self-fulfilling
moments.
[3] This all still supports the idea
that The Story of the Grail “is one
of spiritual growth” from M. Amelia Klenke’s 1956 article.
Works Cited
Chrétien de Troyes. “The Story of the
Grail (Perceval).” Arthurian Romances.
London: Penguin, 2004. 381-494. Print.
Crick, Julia. “Geoffrey of Monmouth:
Prophecy and History.” Journal of
Medieval History 18.4 (1992): 357-71. Print.
Geoffrey of Monmouth. The History of the Kings of Britain.
Trans. and ed. Michael A. Faletra. Peterborough: Broadview, 2008. Print.
Klenke, M. Ameila. “The Spiritual
Ascent of Perceval.” Studies in Philology
53.1 (1956): 1-21. JSTOR. Web. 6 Feb.
2011.
Martin, Dennis D. “Give and Take in
Grail-Quest, Gawain, and Roman Missal: Why Perceval Just Doesn’t Get It.” Logos 4.4 (2001): 169-203. Project Muse. Web. 13 Feb. 2011.
McCullough, Ann. “Criminal Naivety:
Blind Resistance and the Pain of Knowing in Chrétien de Troyes’s ‘Conte du
Graal.’” The Modern Language Review
101.1 (2006): 48-61. JSTOR. Web. 13
Feb. 2011.
Slojka, Ewa. “Escape from Paradox:
Perceval’s Upbringing in the Conte du Graal.”
Arthuriana 18.4 (2008): 66-86. Project Muse. Web. 13 Feb. 2011.
Tolstoy, Nikolai. “Geoffrey of
Monmouth and the Merlin Legend.” Arthurian
Literature 25.1 (2008): 1-42. Print.
